


Shouta (Aizawa’s) Moving Castle

by tennesseebigfoot



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aizawa Shouta as howl, Aizawa Shouta/Reader - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, F/M, Mentor Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Romantic Fluff, aizawa as howl is very dream, howl’s moving castle but my hero, present mic as turnip head, romantic aizawa shouta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennesseebigfoot/pseuds/tennesseebigfoot
Summary: This is an AU based off many works of art where Aizawa is Howl Pendragon and you are in the place of Sophie, please enjoy!This is a work in progress, I was gonna wait to publish but I’m just so excited, I need it out now!
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Eri, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Original Female Character(s), Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Shouta (Aizawa’s) Moving Castle

You watched the smoke puff past your window, black and fuming as it flew across the glass signifying the passing locomotive. 

The sun was barely crawling over the horizon, rays of light dispersed in your room across the wallpaper walls. You put a hand across your face, rubbing yours palms against your eyelids in hopes of waking yourself. 

You used your elbows to push yourself off of the bed, blinking a few times to settle your eyes in the light— nightgown crumpled and mused. 

After pushing off the blanket and finally getting your feet into your slippers, you left your bedside, heading for the bathroom. 

You turned on the faucet water, squeaking as the cold rushing water touched your palm, “cold!” 

A shiver ran up your back, you shook your head turning the other handle to release the hot water. You rolled up your sleeves, pushing your palms under the faucet and bringing the water to your face, patting on the liquid to both warm your features and wake your eyes. 

You reached for the toothpaste, and brush, wetting the brush and applying paste before repeating the last step and brushing your teeth. You looked back up at the mirror, you looked tired— somewhat at least. 

Your (h/c) hair hadn’t been fixed yet, you huffed. Spitting out the paste and rinsing your mouth. You reached for the cabinet, grabbing the necessary tools needed for you to fix your hair. However, you knew you were just going to pull it back and have it out of your face anyway. 

Another part of you knew you’d even resort to a hat if you could. You left the bathroom, headed back for your room to put on a simple dress. You reached into the closet, grabbing a dress and undergarments. 

You changed, repeating the routine you take every morning before grabbing your boots and pulling them on your feet. You tied them, tapping your heel a few times against the wood before standing back up. 

You fixed your bed, pulling the comforter before tucking it tightly. The sun had completely risen, and was now beaming brightly into the room. You took one last look into the mirror before grabbing your bag and leaving. 

“Good morning (Y/N).” A few girls greeted you, each carefully sewing and putting a different assortment of hats together. 

“Good morning.” 

“Are you headed to open the shop?” 

“I’m actually headed to see my sister, could one of you open it? I’ll be back before close.” 

“I can do it, (Y/N).” One of the girls answered from another table.

“Thank you, I won’t be long.” 

You turned to leave before hearing several girls gasp, “look! There’s Shouta’s Moving Castle!” 

You furrowed your brows. 

“Oh there it goes!” 

“Wow!”

“You know I hear that he eats the hearts of girls!” 

“It’s only pretty girls!”

“Oh then you’re safe!” 

“Hey!” 

You caught a glimpse of it enter the fog, it didn’t look much of a castle to you— you thought. You walked away with a soft smile on your face, at least they were having fun. 

Your heels clicked against the cobblestone, exiting the back and leaving the townhouse, you took one last glance at the shop before seeing the trolley pull up nearby. 

You picked up the pace managing to catch the tail-end of the trolley. You stood on the outside step, watching the many people pass you by as the trolley rolled on. 

You hopped off, deciding to walk the rest of the way to the bakery. You turned down an alley, walking the narrow path between two buildings. 

You clenched your purse in your hands, staring ahead and almost losing yourself in thought— 

“Hey, you look a little lost.” 

You paused, looking up from the chests of these two men taking a glimpse at them; one with a mustache and the other clean faced. 

“I’m not lost.” 

“Almost like a little mouse.” 

You felt a small sense of fear build in you, “I’m not a little mouse.” 

“Little mouse looks thirsty, how about we take her out for a drink?” 

“Uh— no thank you, please I have somewhere to be.” You tried to look past them, but they towered over you. 

“See? Your mustache scares all the girls.”

“I think she’s cute when she’s scared.” 

They leaned closer in, it was in that moment you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, “there you are, kitten. I’ve been looking all over for you.” 

You froze before turning to see the man next to you. 

He had black hair, sleek and wild— resting on his shoulders. His eyes sparkled with a tired glow, a scar was located under his right eye; the slight stubble on his face complimenting his dazed look. 

He was gorgeous. 

“Hey!” The two men griped. 

“Excuse me gentlemen, we’ll be on our way.” His voice was gruff, with his free arm his finger flicked ahead— as though he was directing an orchestra his eyes began to glow a bright red and his hair rose above its previously settled position. 

The two men froze— standing still and straight before walking past the two of you in a military strut. 

His hand squeezed your shoulder, ushering you forward, “now don’t be alarmed— but we’re being followed.” 

You couldn’t say a word, simply taking each step with this man; arms to your chest with your clutch in hand. 

“Let’s take a shortcut.” 

His steps moved faster, before seeming to pick you up off the ground. The figures who were following you seemed to be coming into your vision by the dozens. You took in a sharp gasp, a small yelp left your mouth— eyes squeezed shut. 

“Open your eyes, and take my hand.” 

You opened your eyes, reaching for his hand. 

“Now stretch your legs.” 

You looked to him, before slowly stretching out your legs. Your eyes widened, gazing at the buildings and people below you. 

“Now— walk.” 

You began moving your legs, each step moving forward to nowhere as you matched your pace with his. 

“See? You’re a natural.” He spoke once more, “let’s get you where you need to go.” 

You held your breath, you couldn’t believe this; it was beautiful— wonderful. 

And before you knew it— you were back on the ground, the balcony of the bakery where your sister worked. 

You got one last look at him, and he gave you a small smile, “I’ll draw them off— but stay inside for a bit.” 

You nodded and he spoke once more: 

“That’s my girl,” before he seemingly jumped away— back into the sky. He was gone just as quick as he appeared. 

“(Y/N)!” Your sister ran from the doors and toward you, her pink and frilly-aproned uniform flowing with her bouncy steps, “someone came in and said you flew onto the balcony, are you alright?” 

“Hmm? Yes I’m fine.” You smiled.

She sighed, looking over you before taking in a deep breath, “sit with me— please.” 

“Of course, I came here to see you after all.” You explained to her what had happened, telling her of the handsome stranger who had helped you— flew you across the city. 

The two of you sat on the boxes of flour and other grains by the wall, “that’s so dangerous (Y/N)! What if he had hurt you?” 

“But he didn’t, he saved me.” 

“What if it was Shouta, (Y/N)? What if had eaten your heart?” 

“Please,” you sighed, “he only does that to pretty girls.” 

“(Y/N).” She groaned, reapplying her lipgloss, “you are pretty—“

“Lettie! The chocolate eclairs are ready.” A man poked his head through the window. 

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” She smiled, before turning back to you, “please be more careful, (Y/N).” 

“He was so kind to me.” 

She placed her hand on yours, “promise me.”

“I promise.” 

You smiled, standing up and thanking her for caring. You left, assuming it was safe since you spoke with your sister and waited some time. You made your way back to the shop, the sun beginning to set as you hopped onto the trolley. 

You thought about him— the man who saved you. Gazing out toward the road, before getting off and walking toward the front door. The glass panes reflected the setting colors of the sky, dipping lower and lower. 

You unlocked the door, feeling a bit disappointed in yourself for not coming before close as you had promised. 

You sighed, “well—“ 

Suddenly, the door of the shop opened. A woman with a black feather-lined hat and a long black gown entered the shop. 

“I’m sorry ma’am but the shop is closed,” you looked toward her, “I swear I had locked the door.” 

“My, what a tacky shop— filled with tacky hats,” she peered at you, her green eyeshadow and bright pink lips sending you a condescending smirk, “but you are by far the tackiest thing here.” 

You huffed, “I’m sorry— but you need to leave now, ma’am.” 

She suddenly rushed you, her gown and shawl spread wide— almost completely translucent as she engulfed you. You brought up your arms to shield you, hiding your face from her aggressive front. 

“Send a message to Shouta for me, won’t you?” And with that— she was gone, the bell for the door rang and she left. 

You shuttered for a moment, blinking a few times before looking toward your hands. You gasped, they were old! 

Old? Yes, old! You flipped them over, looking, before once again gasping at the wrinkled skin. You immediately walked to the three-paneled mirror in the shop. 

“Now don’t worry (Y/N)— just stay calm.” 

You looked in the mirror, and you almost screamed at your reflection. 

Your skin was wrinkled, and you had shrunk in height. Your previous (h/c) lazy ponytail was now silver, and your eyes revealed a tired expression. 

“I’ve gotta stay calm.” You mumbled, moving back and forth between the shop and the courtyard, “I’ve gotta stay calm.” 

You took another look into the mirror, “oh!” You squeaked at your reflection— you turned away and walked out. 

“I know, it’s just a nightmare— I’ll get some sleep— that’s what I’ll do. Then when I wake up, it’ll all be over.” You went up the stairs, quickly finding your way into your bedroom and locking yourself in. 

You prepared yourself for bed, taking your time with your face, your skin, your mouth and your hair. You were completely shocked at your reflection before leaving to sleep. 

When you woke up the next morning— you found yourself still an old woman. Now this time you were hidden under a blanket at the edge of your bed. 

“(Y/N)! It’s me your mother!” A voice said through the door, the sweet sound of her nurturing voice sang through the wood. 

“Don’t come in here! I’ve got a bad cold.” 

“My! You sound ghastly— like some 90 year old woman.” 

You sighed, “I feel awful! Don’t come in!” 

She lightly tapped, “well— fine! Please feel better!” 

You hadn’t even gotten dressed, still in your night garments and sleepwear, contemplating what had happened to you the night before. You sucked in a deep breath; you needed to find a way to break this curse. 

You decided it was time for you to leave bed, repeating what you do every morning— except taking extra time to do your hair, splitting it down the middle and taming it into two braids. 

You sighed— it was much shorter now that you were older, oh well, “at least my clothes suit me now.”

You grabbed a hat, placing it on your head before grabbing a shawl and sneaking to the kitchen. You grabbed a piece of bread and a slice of cheese, packing it into a small bag before leaving the house. 

As you made your way down the bustling cobblestone streets you spotted a large hay carrier, “hello, do you think you could give me a ride?” 

“Where you headed ma’am?” 

“Just a little farther than you are.” 

“There’s some room in the back, hop on and we’ll take you as far as we go.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, making your way to the back of the carrier, riding along the bumpy road away from the city— and straight to the wastes. 

When the hay carriers got as far as they would go, you began your trek even farther into what would be the land of witches and wizards. 

“Ma’am, be careful out there! It’s the wastes!” 

“I’ve got it, thank you!” You called back to the farmer, seeing a woman peak her head out from his home and ask what an old woman was doing headed toward the wastes. 

You sighed, cursing your aged knees, had you still been in your youth this meager hill would’ve been quite easy to hike— however you’ve gotten mixed up with a nasty curse. 

You thought for a moment, a cane would be lovely as of this moment. You went further over the hills, watching as the city became more and more distant the farther you went. 

“How beautiful.” You mumbled pausing in your hike to eat a snack. You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling a gentle breeze kiss the etched skin of your face. 

When your eyes opened again; you spotted a large stick poking out from a bush, “oh! What a fine walking stick.” 

You cleaned up your hands, quickly dusting them off as you approached the bush. You gripped the stick, at first you pulled at it— quickly realizing it was caught on something. You changed your movements now pushing down on side of the stick, allotting the other to be free. 

It sprang up, the other side of the stick— giving you a small fright, “oh! It’s just a scarecrow.” 

He had what looked like long blonde hair pointed up and curved like a banana, meanwhile he wore a large grin and glasses with colored lenses. You chuckled at the sight of his clothing, leather jacket and buttoned shirt. 

“Your head looks like a microphone,” you tapped your chin, “how loud.... I know! I’ll call you Michael! Yes, yes, like Michael— or maybe Mic for short. How are you standing on your own like that?” 

You took a few steps back before shrugging and decidedly being on your way; but not before the scarecrow began hopping along behind you. 

“It’s fine! You don’t have to follow me!” You called to it, shivering as the wind blew right through you. However, Mic kept hopping— he moved fairly quick before he was prancing at your side. 

“Well, I guess if you would like to help, a cane would be nice.” You looked over to the scarecrow before it turned the opposite direction and began on its way. 

“Horrible thing being old— the wind blows right through you.” You grumbled, pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders. 

Before you knew it— Mic had returned, in his hand was a cane. The top of the cane resembled the head of a bird, with a suspicious pair of glass eyes, “where did you get this?” 

He said nothing. 

“Well, do you think you could find me a place to sleep for the night?” You admired the cane once more before using it to help hike up the hills. 

He hopped away, happily dancing ahead of you. 

Curses. It was freezing, the wind was blowing through every layer of clothing you wore. You hoped he would return soon, maybe there was a home up ahead. 

You shivered once more before Michael returned, this time a large creaking machine behind him and, “Mic! I asked you to find me a place to stay, not a castle!” 

It was huge— hulking and loud, resembling an appearance of a bird? Perhaps? 

The castle seemed to slow down, but not enough for you to just get on. Michael stood by the door; you gasped, running to the doors of the moving castle before reaching the handles of the entrance. 

You pulled yourself on, losing the grip you had on your shawl and watching it fly away behind you. Mic immediately left to chase it.

“Wait! You don’t—“ 

He was gone. 

You sighed, instead reaching for the door handle and opening it, pushing your way in. There was a small set of stairs that led into what you believe was the main area of the castle. You went up each step slowly, your eyes now looking around at your surroundings. 

The place was cluttered with books and webs and cabinets and dishes. It was somewhat dark— so not everything was completely visible. 

A sly smile spread across your face, there was a large fireplace with a bright fire roaring in the domed center. You looked around for a seat, quickly pulling one from the table bring it to the very front of the fireplace. 

You sat down, the warmth beginning to cradle your tired limbs and joints. Heat of the flames pierced the sleeves of your dress, circling and massaging the crevices of your body. Your eyes began to drift away, sleep narrowly taking you. 

“That’s one nasty curse you’ve got on you lady.” 

You blinked a few times, looking around the room for a source of the voice. 

“Over here.” 

You turned your head, the fire had eyes! It also had a mouth— apparently. 

“The fire spoke.” 

“Yeah,” he seemed to flame up, “how’d you get that curse on you? Wicked Witch of the Wastes, huh? What kind of curse is it anyway?” 

“Oh, well,” you began to explain what had happened, but it seemed your mouth had other plans— slamming shut and remaining glued together. 

“Can’t talk about it, huh? Yeah, I’ve got a nasty curse too.” 

“Who are you?” You grumbled, seemingly angry now. You didn’t know you couldn’t talk about it— she was the nastiest of all the witches you concluded. 

“Im a scary fire demon, named, Shirakumo!” He flared his tongue making a spooky noise before reverting back into his position. 

“I have an idea,” he began to talk almost offering you some sort of deal on breaking a curse, however you could barely hear him— slipping deeper and deeper into a slumber. 

“...alright, it’s a deal.” You mumbled, now having fallen into the traps of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter for news and updates: [@tennessebigfoot](https://twitter.com/tennessebigfoot?s=20)


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